Between Inches and Miles
by Vada Cascadia
Summary: Maka has up and left and does not plan to return. Soul is left to try and find out why and how to get her back.
1. Intro

Well Hey there. This is my first story. I have been reading enough of these that I think it is finally time to write one of my own. This may turn into a decent sized story if you will let it. I wanted to publish the prologue to give you a taste. Chapter 1 is on the way. Please read and review.

**Disclaimer(!) I do not own Soul Eater. I could never come up with what Atsushi Ohkubo has.**

Between Inches and Miles

Prologue

A note was all that was left. You could not have noticed someone so vital to their small apartment in Death City just vanished. It was one page. Ransacking the ash blond partner's room only to find a few sets of clothes missing was devastating and yet the lack of well… lack was reassuring. Surely the girl must return with so little to live off of. The last sentence shattered any hope the few missing articles granted, "My return will not be in the near future". How could a book worm live without her books, Soul found himself griping to any reason for a change in heart. She left half read books throughout the house. Soul always whined about the scattered pages left on every possible surface yet he would always pick them up and neatly place them on the nightstand in the order which he saw them placed down. His partner did not seem to pick up on the miniscule details he retained. She did not understand how hard he weapon could study. Although he did poorly in comparison to his brilliant technician in school he would pass with flying colors in a class how his meister woke up an extra half hour early so the bathroom would be all his when he stumbled out of bed, how she read with a note book next to her at all times to take notes and write her own reflections, how she never failed to smile with her emeralds aglow when Soul did something especially thoughtful. Three unsatisfying sentences were left and breakfast, his favorite and still warm. How could she have left without him noticing? He could smell her shampoo in the air.

Dear Soul,

We cannot continue this way. Please don't follow; this is an order from your meister. My return will not be in the near future.

Please, take care of yourself,

Maka

There were only a few lines separating Soul's name from her's, mere inches. Looking down at the page it seemed as if they were mile apart.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Soul should have called his friends, the ones that stuck around. He left the lukewarm breakfast on the table and walked toward her room. She was seen heading in for the night only hours ago in yellow and green pajamas, ashen locks framing her always calculating face. Soul had awakened coated in cold sweat only a few hours later. The Black Blood was a mental illness at this point, something debilitating yet it rarely showed its physical side effects, at least not when anyone would notice. Night after night his unconscious mind would wonder toward the dark trance of a poor excuse for jazz. Night after night Maka would be on the brink of death while Soul was up to his eyes in the black sea that became his soul. He never had the chance ignoring her screams and the Black Blood never denied his front row seats to the death of his partner. Dream or not, it was as if your soul was torn in two each night. Night after night it was the same aside from added cruel details and the occasional change in plot. The monotony, you would think, would eventually numb his nerves. No, this nightmare was salt in his wounds every time he slips into what should be a peaceful slumber.

Soul got out of bed and tip-toed the bathroom not wanting to wake his meister, splashed water on his face, and stared at his pasty face in the mirror. Milky skin almost matching snow white hair, eyes blood so bloodshot it was as if his on crimson irises had a leak. Soul would never let anyone see him like this, not even Maka, not when she awake at least. He found himself in her room as she slept peacefully. This was not what a cool guy should be doing but he could not help himself. Seeing someone, no it had to be _her_, sleep so soundly almost made up for the fact he had not. The way her chest would rise and fall in perfect rhythm, he wondered what sort of land she was off dreaming in.

Cool guys don't lie which is why if his technician ever were to find him like this he would be a loss of words, also uncool. How does one explain to another that after waking from the hell in his head that he often creeps into her room and lies with her until just before the sun would rise, right before she would wake and wash the sleep from her emerald green eyes? She did this ever since they got into an argument about the two of them having one bathroom. This girl is never one to back down from a fight but always willing to accommodate Soul. The dispute occurred before the Black Blood began running havoc in Soul's mind so he did not understand how they resolved this issue. Soul simply assumed Maka sped up her morning routine. It wasn't until he began having his slumber parties that he realized she woke up earlier. When he did finally put two and two together he could not help but feel a pang of guilt; after all she spent hours in her room after she had "turned in for the night" reading. The girl must only get half the amount of sleep a normal person requires. Then again the two of them aren't what most would call normal. Soul had figured out that she really lets herself sleep around 2 a.m., because when he wasn't watching his fears come alive in his unconscious state he as wide awake listening to that damn ogre at all hours of the night. It took weeks before Soul ceased screaming Black Blood murder after awaking. It startled her at first but soon we fell into a pattern. I would awaken right around the time she finally settled in for the night and she would rush into my room with a cool rag and warm chamomile tea. She nursed him back to a calm state before her heavy lids would fall and her body beckoned for her warm bed. He almost missed Nurse Maka, but this was better. Soul could lay here with his best friend and meister and get the most peaceful sleep he has had since before being infected. It may only be for a few hours but it was worth it. Now as he lay in her empty bed it didn't feel as warm and her absence made it anything but soothing.

This wasn't the nightmares Soul was used to. It was cold and dark but unlike the usual sea of Black Blood where everything was closed in this place was vast. This was not the sea that covered the black and red checkered floor of the Black Room but a literal ocean. Soul had only been to the beach a handful of times and they were never enjoyable, missions and that one time with his so called family. But even he could tell this was no normal shore. The waves turned white at the tip and the sand was a lifeless gray. Dark waves crashed on the shore without a sound. That had to be the most eerie part of it. Soul could not even hear the sound of his own breath. The snow falling from the sky was serene against the ominous landscape, peacefully falling to the ground only to become one with the sea. He sat there for hours until he couldn't take it anymore. Soul ran towards silent waves and let himself be washed away into the ocean, a feeling that he thought would at least be familiar to him. The bitter cold gnawed at his bones and stung his flesh until he could not take it anymore and then he heard a noise.

Jointing upright covered in ice cold sweat Soul let out a shrill scream. His blood was boiling and his skin frozen to the touch. Nothing made sense and the he saw her mountain of books piled on her windowsill. This was not Soul's room. The room belonged to someone who was not coming home at least not in anytime soon according to that damn note. Soul wanted to see her and understand why she fled. He wanted to find her and take to the sky on Grigori wings and take her home.

Returning to the kitchen Soul cleaned up an uneaten meal and poured himself a cup of coffee. Sitting down on the table he read and reread what his meister left behind. Her signature which Soul always saw as simple and clean was different from the artsy one left on the page. Each letter was wispy like the wind they often carried on and the k was drawn to look like a key. Maka was practical and although she appreciated the arts she never crafted he own. It was pretty. The top of the key forming the loop of the k and its teeth became the rest. But what does it unlock? There were so many questions and no Maka to turn to for answers. It almost made Soul want to return to Maka's empty bed.


End file.
